Empathy
by midnightluck
Summary: Detective Hakuba has a little secret...."There's a reason no one ever touches me. And it's a good one."
1. First Contact

-Prologue is in Hakuba, first person; the rest is third person but still Hakuba-view. Don't own, don't own, don't own, blah blah blah. Moving right along...-

----

Empathy

There is a reason nobody touches me. And it's a damn good one.

I suppose it is my fault, if one's genes can be said to be one's own fault. I just got lucky enough to inherit the recessive gene that randomly pops up in our family.

So maybe it isn't my fault I'm an empath.

Empathy is a tricky power--being able to read the emotions of others can be troublesome. Sometimes it is helpful, yes, but mostly it is a hindrance. Generally, it happens during skin-to-skin contact. And clothes do not always stop it.

It is stronger flesh to flesh, but I can occasionally pick up faint traces through clothing. More so if it is old, or used constantly, such as school uniforms. New items such as presents have no feel to them. That is why winter is my favorite season. Not only is not considered odd to wear gloves, but everybody's covered up, mostly in new, warmer clothing.

That is another reason I wear the Inverness coat. Yes, it is practical, and no, there is nothing wrong with it, and yes, I do posess some fashion sense, but it is also thick enough to guard against most casual contact.

My own personality helps diminish that as well. People started to figure out what I could do (and it is not difficult to notice when you a) know our family history and b) often see a young child from said family pick up an old piece of clothing or brush against somebody and laugh, cry, or scream for no apparent reason). Once they knew, no one touched me; everyone kept their distance. And I learned early on it was better to keep it that way. No contact means no pain, no knowledge, and no inevitable rejection.

So I don't tell, and I don't touch. I try to feel as little as I can, because all emotion is bad. All it does is get in the way and stop you from thinking clearly. Emotion has no place in the life I have built for myself; it is not logical.

Sometimes I do wonder whether or not it is better to live with both the pain and joy of emotion. And then, whenever I accidentally (or purposefully) touch someone's skin, I remember again just why I choose to live the way I do.

------

It happened completely by accident. In fact, he'd been trying to help.

Okay, so it had started with attempted capture, but come on, could he really be blamed? After all, that was his purpose in life, to catch the Kaitou Kid. So of course he'd grab the opportunity by the wrist when it presented itself.

He just hadn't expect the other's glove to come off, nor for it to throw the ever-balanced Kid off. Which is extremely dangerous in the best of situations (who knew what might go off if the Kid fell over?), which this was decidedly not.

No; teetering on the edge of a fourty-story building's roof is definitly not the best of situations.

White arms windmilled; a white body arched and swayed, trying to regain poise, coming scarily close to falling. Although he'd never tried it, Hakuba thought it should be dreadfully impractical to open a hang-glider while falling backwards. And still, Hakuba hesitated. But after all, he was a detective, and that came with a moral code. So he sighed and reached out, grabbing a flailing wrist and pulling Kid back onto the safety that was the roof. And froze, not releasing the thief's wrist.

Whenever he caught someone's feelings, they came in layers or levels. That wasn't quite accurate, but it was as close as he could get without inventing a new word. The top was the most superficial, and the deeper the levels/layers ran, the stronger and more ingrained the emotion was. It kind of made sense; the farther down it was, the closer towards the person and the core of their makeup.

He had expected the Kid's first level--anticipation, adrenaline, excitement. No one could do what he did like he did without thoroughly enjoying the hell out of it. There were undertones on relief (from not falling?) and worry (Hakuba still held his wrist). The next level down was also somewhat predictable--worry, frustration, fear?, anger. What anyone would expect a caught thief to feel, only it was almost too strong, as if there was another cause. Of course, there were also other emotions, other minor layers on top and in between. These three were simply the most prevalent, and the third was the strongest of them.

Loneliness. Isolation. Loss. Sorrow, a little, and pain. So, so much pain. He'd had no idea. There was nothing he knew of either Kid or Kuroba that would beget this intensity. Isolation, yes, because he could not share his secret life with anyone, and while he was adored by the class, he really had no mutual friends. Aoko didn't count, because keeping the secret from her would and did compound the loneliness. But the absolute depth of this level was astounding. It had to be a part of Kuroba/Kid himself if it was this deep. With this...this -void- inside him, how the hell did he smile like he did?

The Kid was slightly freaked. Not that he'd ever admit it, but he was. Hakuba had almost had him, then saved him. And now he was just grasping his wrist a bit too tightly and staring at him. Staring, and his eyes, usually so cold and walled, flickered with emotions. And was it...? No, his eyes were playing tricks. There was no way that those honey eyes changed to violet-blue, not even for a second. And then there was sorrow, and pity in brown-gold eyes. Pity? What the hell?

How to deal with confusing/potentially hazardous situations: Poker Face. So he snapped himself back into character, inappropriate gleefullness, propensity for mocking and all.

Hakuba blinked and pulled himself out of it. The Kid was staring at him now, probably confused at his actions. Hakuba mentally shook himself and released his grip on the other's wrist, no longer thinking of capture on this night. "I...I had no idea..." he whispered, unsure if he was talking to the Kid, himself, or maybe the wind.

"And that's the problem, tantei-san," the Kid admonished gleefully, mask firmly in place, hopping up on the crenneling of the roof again, this time the right way around. "You never have any ideas!"

Hakuba, still shellshocked by what he'd never expected from Kaitou 1412, Internationally Wanted Thief, watched the gleaming white dot fade along with the maniacal laughter still ringing on the wind and in his ears.

Then his exertions caught up with his body as the concept was still stupefying his brain. It took quite a bit of energy out of him to go that deep, and he was out of practice. His brain decided to deal with this phenomenon later, shutting down and taking his body with it. He almost made it to the wall before he fainted.

------

A/n:

-Yeah, no logic in this, just the idea of Hakuba as an empath has been nagging at me. I mean, he rarely touches people and isolates himself emotionally, right? Right. So maybe I'm not crazy. Anyhoo, this was originally intended to kick off a nice long AU, but it's been a while. Maybe I'll end up doing it later, neh?-

Reviews are always appreciated!


	2. A Study in Secrets

**Empathy, Ch. 2**

_I suppose this ability of mine isn't all bad; it does have certain advantages. I can get a good impression of someone by shaking, or, in a lady's case, kissing, a hand in greeting. It is just a general idea of how the person sees me and others around. First impressions, after all, are everything. I never do more than scratch the surface, though. I cannot risk going too deep._

_I've often been told it is a blessing, a gift. I am not so sure I agree. This "gift" keeps me alone, isolated. No one touches me, and that hurts. Have you any idea how powerful a simple touch can be? Of course not; you can only really miss something you no longer have. Physical contact is a human necessity. The act of touching, a hug or even a hand clap, it shows that the person acknowledges you, and cares--at least a little. It proves that you are there, that you exist._

_To live without that proof is difficult. Sometimes unbearably so._

--

--

When he opened his eyes, he saw blue. His first addled thought was of the afternoon sky, but he quickly realized that they were eyes. And the person those eyes belonged to was currently leaning above him, uncomfortably close.

"Are you all right?" The question was higher-pitched than he'd expected, but it was still obviously directed at him.

He actually had to think about that question for a moment. What was he doing on the floor? Oh. Oh, yes. "No, I am not particularly fine, but I believe I will live." He groaned and sat up. The other also sat back on his heels, now that he was sure the fallen detective was in no imminent danger. He was, Hakuba was surprised to notice, a small child, of maybe seven to ten years. He was quickly distracted from further observation by the skull-splitting headache that always accompanied his overreaching himself.

He groaned once more, clutching his head. He really should have known better, but it had been the _Kid_. And it also hadn't been entirely voluntary, either. Still, somehow, this was all the thief's fault. He wasn't sure how, but it was. He switched to English long enough to mutter, "Fine? Oh yes, I'm just dandy. All I need is some aspirin, a nice cup of tea, and Kid's guts for garters."

The child looked at him thoughtfully. "I thought only girls wore garters," he responded in Japanese. Hakuba glared at this too-smart child.

"The point," he returned, "is that they would no longer be inside his stomach."

The child thought about this for a second. "Yeah, I could go with that...But let's get you up and out of here first."

Yes, off the roof sounded good. Home sounded better, and bed better yet. He stumbled to his feet unsteadily. Still, this little boy looked incredibly familiar to him. Perhaps they'd met before...? "Might I ask what your name is?"

The child glanced up at him. "Edogawa Conan. You must've hit your head harder than I'd thought."

Ah, yes, this had been the child at the Sunset Mansion case, and also that one where they'd been trapped on that island. Yes, at that time, he'd been confused as the Detective of the East, so he'd passed the title onto the kid here and been a 'foreign guest.' He smiled slightly and crookedly at that thought. "Yes, you're the 'Great Detective of the East,' correct?"

He was talking to empty air; the child had stopped a few paces back. "You...you..." He sighed and then his demeanor completely changed. "You know, huh?"

"Well, during that last case we were involved in together..." Saguru was slightly put off. He'd tried to make a joke; it had apparently not gone over well. He was actually quite puzzled by the child's change in behaviour.

"Yeah, figures." He snorted in disgust. "I knew I shoulda played it down a bit. I've really been getting lax, haven't I?" He gave Hakuba a wry grin. "So, if I may ask, what gave away that I'm Kudo Shinichi?"

It was Hakuba's turn to be absolutely shocked. "You're WHO?!"

The confusing child stopped and stared at him. "Wait, what were _you _talking about?"

"During the case on that island, we designated you as 'the Detective of the East.' I thought it was a joke."

Conan grimaced. "Dammit. I hate misunderstandings."

"I sympathize entirely; now what's this about you being Kudo?"

"Ah." Conan looked up at him beseechingly. "I don't suppose you can just...forget I said anything?"

"No." This was a case if ever he'd seen one; he was simply not going to let something this bizarre go.

"It's a long story?" Conan tried.

Hakuba sat down where he was and lifted an eyebrow.

"Well." Dammit. Now he'd gone and blabbed his secret all on his own. And Blondie over there was obviously not letting this go without some sort on explanation. And somehow, Conan _really_ didn't think an fake explanation would do it with this guy. So..."It started one day at Tropical Land..."

--

--

Even though he was exhausted, Hakuba was finding sleep elusive. It really wasn't fair, having two big bombshells dropped on him on the same night. Speaking of which...

Kid. The thief was and always had been a mystery, but never so much as now. Honestly, the guy's heart was an open wound that was festering in its own isolation. But he smiled and he laughed, day in and day out. How did he do it, feeling like that? Saguru had felt many, many emotions in his life (most not his own) but none that ran so deep. Perhaps...but that's just mad. He _had_ to be aware of it, hadn't he? Because if he wasn't, then that was even scarier.

If Kaito himself wasn't aware of how deep this hurt went, then how much other hurt had the thief endured throughout his life?

It was a sobering and scary thought. And he still wasn't able to sleep, so he laid awake all night, turning the thief's emotions over and over in his mind.

--

--

Hakuba didn't think he'd ever been quite so glad of the weekend. If he'd had school, he wouldn't have made it. As it was, he was only running on coffee, and he was feeling it. He wasn't sure he'd even have gotten out of bed if it hadn't been for the meeting he'd agreed to.

Still, when the clock showed eleven, he got dressed, put his hair in semblance of order, and brushed his teeth. After yet another cup of caffeine, he was off to the park to meet a not-so-little kid.

He'd been early. That didn't surprise him. Conan was there before him. That did surprise him. But there he was, sitting on the designated bench of Beika Park, the one under the large oak tree. He looked like any other child there, sitting there and kicking his dangling legs back and forth. He looked up when Hakuba approached, and that's when Hakuba noticed it. He may appear like any other kid, but his eyes didn't match. No kid should ever have worn an expression like that, Hakuba thought as he sat down beside Conan on the wooden bench.

"Sleep much last night?"

"No. You?"

"Not a bit."

Conan sighed. "Look, if you've got questions, can we just get to them? I've got other stuff to do today."

Hakuba sighed and leaned back. He looked out over the park, not wanting to watch the person next to him. "What are you going to do about it?"

Conan hadn't been expecting _that_. It was sad, really, how he kept getting caught off guard by this guy. He really needed to work on his control a bit if he was slipping up this much. Still, it was kinda nice to have someone else know. "What am I going to do?" He thought this over for a while. "Well, I'll just keep doing what I'm doing—watching for them, and trying to find a cure." A short, harsh laugh. "What else can I do, really?"

Hakuba had just opened his mouth to answer when he noticed a teenage girl jogging towards them, calling Conan's name. He changed what he'd been about to say. "Friend of yours?" he asked wryly.

"You could say that. She's my neechan...and Shinichi's childhood friend."

Ouch. Over the past few months, he'd been noticing just what sort of a relationship came out of being childhood friends. After all, it had been playing out in his classroom every day. He turned his head just in time to see Conan paste on a big smile and wave back at the girl. She picked up her pace a bit, and he barely had time to whisper "I'm sorry" before she stopped in front of them.

"Conan," she greeted. "Who's your friend?"

Conan jumped up to stand on the bench, putting him about shoulder height with the girl. "Ran-neechan, this is Hakuba-niichan! He's a detective, just like Uncle!"

Saguru made a mental note to find out who "Uncle" was as he stood to bow to the girl. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Hakuba Saguru."

She smiled at him, and it made her beautiful. She bowed back. "I'm Mouri Ran. The pleasure's mine, really. I hope Conan wasn't bothering you too much."

"Not at all," he said easily. Mouri meant that "Uncle," at a guess, was Mouri Kogoro, detective extraordinaire. "We were just discussing...fictional heroes. Won't you join us?"

Ran laughed back at him. "No way! I've never had any interest in Sherlock Holmes, but Shinichi never would stop talking about him..." Her eyes turned inward for a moment, but she recovered quickly. "Well, Conan, I was just coming to tell you Ayumi and the others are looking for you, and be home by six, okay?"

Conan nodded, smiled and said "Yes, Ran-neechan!" Hakuba winced inside. Now that he was looking for it, he could tell it was forced. Still, it was a masterful job. Well, it's not like he wouldn't have had plenty of practice. He was beginning to see how torn up inside this kid was, and it reminded him uncomfortably of a different Kid.

Ran waved at them as she took off, back to where a different girl with dirty-blond hair was waiting. Conan and Hakuba watched as they walked off arm in arm, chatting about something-or-other. Conan sighed and slouched back down on the bench. They sat like that, in silence for a while, the tall pretender and the short liar, each thinking their separate thoughts.

Saguru wanted to ask more questions, but he thought that now was not a good time. Conan seemed...distraught or depressed were too strong, but sad not nearly accurate enough. Despondent, perhaps. He thought of resting his hand on the boy's shoulder, or ruffling his hair, but he couldn't bring himself to do that. Not only was it an invasion of privacy, but he also wasn't sure he could stand what he would find. After all, hadn't he shut himself off to avoid the hurt?

It didn't last too long before Saguru finally broke the silence. "So, what now?"

"Damned if I know. I'm just trying to get along."

Both found it funny that neither had to speak. It was probably odd, but still, it was a comfortable silence. Hakuba found, surprisingly enough, that he did not resent it in the least. He did, however, resent the shrill voice that broke that silence a moment later, calling Conan's name. He was pleased to note that the other also did not look particularly thrilled at the group of children running towards him. A little girl led the pack.

Hakuba turned towards Conan. "You seem to be quite popular with the ladies today."

He groaned. "Don't remind me. Ran thinks I'm just a kid, so even at home I get treated as if I'm seven. These guys seem to think I'm some kind of hero or something. And I have to go to school with them. Elementary school. _Again._"

He was finding this fairly amusing, but kept on a serious face for the sake of the other's pride. "That bad, huh?"

"You don't know the half of it."Still, Conan slid off the bench to approach the kids, a smile on his face. He stayed on the bench and watched for a few minutes, deliberating. Deciding to take the chance, he stood and approached the small group. He said his hellos and introductions were made.

Ayumi, who was the girl apparently, looked up at him. "You have a funny accent!"

"Yes, I know." He answered gravely. "That is because I'm from England."

"Wow!"

"Really?"

"Cool!"

He fielded questions for a short time, before announcing that he had to go. Conan shot him a glance that clearly asked Saguru not to abandon him to these kids. Instead, He simple said, "See you later, Conan-kun," took a deep breath, and patted the child on the head briefly. He missed Conan's death glare (Hakuba _knew _he wasn't a kid; that was uncalled for!) because his eyes were closed. He turned his head away before he opened them. It really wouldn't do for Conan to notice his eyes right now.

Saguru Hakuba didn't say another word; simply turned and walked away.

* * *

_Yeah, no idea where this story is going. At all.  
_


	3. In Which There is Glitter

_For all my power gives me insight, it has drawbacks as well. I cannot determine evil intent, or possible enemies, or, indeed, anything that could actually be useful. It has always hindered far more than helped._

_I was six when I first used it to manipulate. The child down the street, the only one in the neighborhood who still talked to me, had a little puppy who had just died of an infection. I tried to cheer him up. I failed. Then, I took his hand and wished he'd be happy._

_And he was. _

_He laughed and smiled, right there at the fresh grave we'd dug, smiled while tears of grief still rolled down his cheeks. The worst part was, he was truly, truly happy._

_All because I wanted him that way. It was the single most disturbing moments of my life_

_Since then, I have made an active effort to never force emotion on anyone. I could, though. I could make sad people happy, or the joyous cry, or make anyone fall in love me with just a touch. But I won't._

_I hate this power of mine, truly I do. However, sometimes I wonder what would happen if the holder had no morals. And I shudder, and think that maybe it is for the best that I, and only I, suffer._

–

–

Weekends were wonderful, Saguru decided for about the thousandth time that afternoon. He lay on the sofa and stared at the ceiling and refused to get up. After all, there wasn't any reason to, and all the reason in the world to stay put.

He did, however, make the concession of leaning over to the end table and grabbing two of the pills piled up there. Weekends may be miracles, he decided, but headaches suck.

In fact, life sucked, too. He wasn't sure how, but somehow, this was all Kid's fault. Or maybe Kaito's? But that distinction didn't really matter much, did it? Because Kaito was Kid. Wasn't he?

It struck him that he could find out. He could simply go up to Kuroba tomorrow and....And what? Satisfy his personal curiosity? It's not like that would hold up in a court of law. Well, Your Honor, I've sort of got this magical power and it tells me that the defendant is Kid....He'd be lucky to just get laughed out of the courthouse.

Come right down to it, he might not even want to know. After all, the uncertainty was part of the game. There was that one heist, after all, with the handcuffs, and hadn't _that_ been an interesting one. So maybe he won't anyhow. But....

He firmly shook his head. Thinking in circles was going to get him nowhere fast. This wasn't even helping his headache; he felt like his brain was about to pound itself out of his skull.

Speaking of feeling, there was Conan to consider. Conan, who wasn't really Conan. Probably taken from the author, judging on Mouri's mention of a Holmes addiction. Now, there was an idea. Maybe he'd finally found another Holmes enthusiast. He'd have to remember to ask Conan/Kudo about that next time he saw him. He had a relatively extensive collection of the defining works on the subject himself...

Again, he was digressing. His mind just kept shying away from what he'd felt from Conan. It was just too similar to what he'd felt from Kid. Perhaps it came from keeping secrets? In that case, would he himself feel the same? No, he decided after some thought, because I have no one that is close enough for me to worry about. But still, Conan's deep rift of loneliness and the still well of pain kept contrasting in his mind with Kid's passionate hurricane of hurt.

He found himself unable to sleep again that night.

–

–

Monday morning found him tired and getting worse. Sleep was not strictly necessary, and he'd pulled longer shifts before, but it was a nice luxury. Still, he kept his head down in class and didn't participate. He didn't always listen either, but the teacher thankfully never called on him.

Other people, however, noticed he wasn't being his normal perfect self. Aoko for one, and Kaito. Aoko just shot him concerned glances, but Kaito decided to "cheer him up."

This, Saguru decided, would probably help neither his headache or his sanity.

He was right.

After the third bunch of flowers and glitter fell on his head from thin air, he turned to look at Kaito. Quietly and calmly, he said, "If you do not stop that right this instant, I will eviscerate you. Slowly. With a rusted butter knife." Then he turned back around and put his head back on the desk.

He didn't look to confirm it, but he as almost certain Kaito would be staring at his back, mouth gaping like the fish he so hated. It was a pleasant thought. Kaito didn't try anything else on him that day.

At lunch, however, Aoko did something odd. She came and sat next to him once she'd finished her customary mop-chase. She sat there for a while, not saying anything, just watching the class around them. He soon finished his own lunch and quietly observed her for a while.

She was pretty, he was surprised to realize. He'd never really noticed before. She was always running and yelling or blushing or ducking, and it wasn't until she was still this time that he truly saw her. He noticed she was watching him as well in little sidelong glances, trying to be discreet. He bore it politely; after all, he was a gentleman.

Finally, she spoke. "You do know, that...should you ever, y'know, need to...talk or anything, I'm here. You know that, right?"

It was sad that that took him by surprise. It had just been so long since he'd had anyone, since he'd had a friend. He noticed she was looking at him openly now, worried and anxious, and realized he ought to respond. "I do know that," he said, "but I think maybe I had forgotten. Thank you." And he gave a small smile, and she was placated.

"I hate to see you sad," she told him. "If there's anything I can do...."

"You do enough by keeping Kuroba from bothering me. Thank you for that, by the way."

She smiled gaily now. "I think you did that by yourself. He's really taking you seriously, you know."

"I do know. I also know exactly how long it takes to get glitter out of my hair. I'd rather skip it, if at all possible."

"You won't be able to," she said, now giggling at his mock-offendedness. "It's already all in there, like fairy dust."

"I know." he sighed, and ran his hand through his hair, attempting to knock some of it out. Unfortunately his maneuver failed. He had ended up with not only glitter hair, but spiky, non-combed glitter hair.

He gave up. Aoko said, "Here, let me," and reached over to mess up his hair further. He closed his eyes as her hand gently moved, consciously absorbing only the very surface emotions through the contact. He let the calm _all-is-right-in-my-world _flow in and around him, making himself more at peace.

Aoko smiled as Hakuba relaxed a bit. It was rare to see the stoic detective without his smug face, or his arrogant face, or his I'll-get-you-Kid-if-it's-the-last-thing-I-do face. This, she had to concede, this was nice. She'd been worried about her friend. She withdrew her hand, having made no progress except on the destruction of his hairdo.

He kept his eyes closed until her hand was well on the other side of the table. When he judged enough time had passed, he opened his eyes and smiled at her again. Quietly, he thanked her.

She smiled back. It was good to know he trusted he enough to let her get close to him, something she could tell he didn't do often. Then lunch was over, and the rest of the school day passed in relative normality.

–

–

He arrived at his house gate to find an unexpected sight. Little Conan was slouched against a post, backpack at his feet, obviously waiting.

Shit, thought Saguru uncharitably. I really wanted a nap.

Still, he graciously opened the gate, invited the other in, and locked the gate securely behind them. He repeated the ritual with the front door, motioning for his guest to take off his shoes and follow him to the library.

Conan made it to the doorway before stopping and gaping at the room of books around him. Saguru would probably have smiled at that if he hadn't been concentrating on keeping himself together and civil.

"I'm going to make tea," he said abruptly. "Want some?"

Conan shrugged absently, stepping reverently into the two-story room, drifting towards the nearest wall of books.

He sighed, and headed towards the kitchen. Setting the water on to boil, he dry-swallowed some pain pills, set out some cups, sugar and cream, and got out a bag of his favorite tea. By then, the water had boiled, and he went ahead and made himself a cup. Politeness be damned, he needed it.

He took a few sips, letting it calm him, and whether it was the tea, the quiet, or the pills, he began to feel somewhat civil again. He gathered the tray he'd made, and, taking a deep, fortifying breath, headed towards the library.

_

_

Conan looked up when Saguru entered and said, "Wow."

This time, he did smile a bit. "Our family has gathered books in this library for generations," he explained to the boy. "Every generation collected to more or less their own tastes, making it a rather...varied collection." He settled in his favorite armchair and sipped at his tea some more. Conan paced around the room a bit before he finally gave in and asked, "What brings you here, Kudo-kun?"

Conan stopped suddenly, posture stiff and defensive. "That," he ground out. "That, right there." He threw up his hands and resumed his pacing. "I'm sorry for just dropping in, but I just...I got so sick of it, you know?"

He nodded; he could imagine how the not-child felt. He could even relate to it, somewhat. He had a secret to keep, too, and no proper peer group. He doubted it had ever been as bad for him as it was for Conan...Kudo, though. And he should really call the other by his true name when possible. He made a mental note of that, then tuned back into the rant.

"I think I'm afraid that I'll...that I'll turn into a child if I keep acting like one. I can't stand class; my classmates think the height of excitement is the new Masked Yaiba! Ran treats me like I'm seven, because I _am_! I never get to have a decent, interesting, _intelligent _conversation anymore!"

Saguru was nodding automatically. Kudo continued in this vein for quite some time before finally falling into a chair of his own.

"I'm just tired of always pretending." he said, losing steam. "And then I thought, since you already know, and are about my real age, maybe...just maybe...." He stopped, and sighed. "I don't know."

"You are welcome to come here to get away, if you like," Saguru felt compelled to offer. "I can't guarantee I'll always be the best of company, but you are welcome."

Kudo glanced at him from the depths of his armchair. He puffed his bangs up out of his eyes, then said, "Thanks. I...thanks. I guess I just needed to blow off some steam." Saguru nodded politely; he'd figured that out already. "I think I'll take you up on that offer, if only to be able to explore this library a bit."

He chose not to take offense at that comment, but nodded, and the two sat for a while. Saguru sipped his tea some more, and Kudo seemed to sink in on himself. He wished there was something else he could do to help, and there probably was; he just had no clue what. The best he could do was to vow he'd keep an eye on the boy whenever he could.

Somehow, being someone's confidant gave him a slight sense of peace. He, aware as always of an emotion, picked it out immediately. He marveled at it, turned it over, and examined it, but it was real, and here, and that was enough for the moment. Then, he realized what had happened; Kudo had trusted him.

He trusted him enough to give him a secret as close to him as his soul, even if he'd had little choice. And although it wasn't anything on the level of a physical touch, it was still an acknowledgment. An acknowledgment of him as a person, as someone helpful, someone wanted.

He smiled a little at the thought, and it was a true smile.

Maybe this arrangement wouldn't be so bad after all.

Just then, Conan's high, child's voice broke into his musings. "Is that a chess set? A real _crystal_ chess set?"

His smile grew the tiniest bit. "Why, yes. Do you play?"

–

–

–

–

_A/n: Sooooo, not dead. I'd like to thank every single one of my kind reviewers; you were one of the major elements that inspired me to actually look for a plot in this mess. I love my 'Kuba-kun, and am glad to see other people also think he doesn't get enough focus in fanfic. Please continue to keep me on the right track with his character; let me know if I go ooc? Again, thanks so much for putting up with such a long wait!  
_

_And! And! And! I even have an almost-plot now! Don't give up on me yet guys; this may still go somewhere!_


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